


Sore Loser

by SexyShia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Clint Needs a Hug, Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 01:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11002671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SexyShia/pseuds/SexyShia
Summary: Clint is mostly deaf, partially blind, and without his trusty bow. And now the Black Widow is after him.





	Sore Loser

Clint felt something whizz past his ear and he threw himself to the floor. He looked furiously around him, trying to get his bearings, but all was foreign to him. The gun in his hand felt wrong, and he really wished he had his trusty bow. It was dark, and cramped and he could just barely hear a cackling laugh and running footsteps. He knew he should have changed his hearing aid’s battery that morning. But this wasn’t how he had expected his day to play out, and now he was somewhere unfamiliar, unable to see or hear much. If only he had learned to echolocate or something. Might be something worth bringing up to Fury.

If only Tasha were here to help him out. Sure, he had done many solo missions before without her, but he had become accustomed to her over the years. And this was different - he was out of his element here. This was totally new for him. 

He crawled along the floor, fumbling his way along. Bright lights flashed occasionally, but they seemed to disorient him more than anything. Where was his team? He wanted to cry out to them and get a little back-up, but someone was obviously somewhat close, and he didn’t want to give his position away. Tasha would have known, somehow, and would have been there already. But Tasha wasn’t going to help him, not this time.

Something hit right above his head, and then more followed, rapid-fire. Someone knew where he was. They were trying to flush him out. He scrambled forward and ducked under a small overhang, rolling behind a short wall. 

OK, Clint, what’s the plan? he thought to himself. He desperately needed a strategy. His team had apparently abandoned him, and Clint suspected that his position compromised. He didn’t even know how many were left, on either side. Was he the only one? Could he expect any help, or was it all up to him now?

Get to higher ground, he thought. That usually seemed to help. A bird’s eye view, or the closest approximation to one he could get in this dim lighting, might help. What was it Natasha always said? You’re nothing without information? He couldn’t remember the exact wording. Not that it mattered, everything sounded better when she said it. Probably her intense, serious voice. He always sounded like an idiot, even if he was repeating something that sounded smart when she said it. Any….ways, higher ground. The sound of footsteps getting closer helped snap him back to attention and he darted his way up a series of platforms until he could survey his surroundings better. 

Survey he did, but there was little to be seen. There was no sign of human life anywhere. But those footsteps had sounded so clear, so close. He whirled around, trying to get a hint of something, anything. All of a sudden, though, it was quiet, absolutely silent. The lights continued to flash intermittently, but beyond that there was nothing but platforms and short walls. He was filled with dread. Someone was there, but where?

“Hey, Clint,” a smooth voice purred in his ear. “Found you.” He felt a gun press into the small of his back. 

“….Natasha. Where’d you come from?”

“Does it matter?” she said. In one fluid movement, she disarmed him. “Turn around and face me.”

He obliged. She was clearly in her element. The smallest hint of a smile flashed at the corner of her mouth, something most people would miss in their terror at coming face to face with the Black Widow. To be fair, many of them were probably dead before she completed the expression. She raised the gun to point directly at his heart.

“Tash-“ he began, but she cut him off, smoothly pulling the trigger.

 

>>>————>

 

“Fuck, Tash,” Clint groaned, rubbing at his pecs as they crossed the crowded parking lot. “I don’t think you’re supposed to shoot paintballs that close range.” 

She smirked. “You’re just a sore loser.”

“I’ll grant you the sore part,” he acquiesced. 

“I think this proves who the better Avenger is.”

“Best 2 out of 3?” 

“Fine, but next time I will hold nothing back. Do you think your pride can take being bested again?”

“…Wait, were you holding back?” Clint stopped walking, legitimately concerned. She smirked and continued walking towards the car. “Tasha, were you? You wouldn’t, would you?”

She smiled innocently, and climbed in the driver’s seat. “I guess you’ll find out next week.”


End file.
